While eating an eyebrow

Up, up the thing where scribbles
Babylon over what made mucus
and in a decade thought
them so of the human everglow
one discovers upon walking with boots
over floors outside tiled in animals,
tiled in only what isn’t made yet
or burned yet to make literate the people
or silenced in a good hassle
during a wild night of broken glass
which was tile under Babylon’s feet.